


I Know Where to Start

by rsadelle



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 24/7 Dom/sub, BDSM, Bondage, Dom/sub, F/M, Impact Play, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Multi, Non-Sexual Kink, Rope Bondage, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 05:26:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rsadelle/pseuds/rsadelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sex is easy. Sex they can get. It's all the other things they want that they depend on each other for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know Where to Start

**Author's Note:**

> **Content Notes/Warning:** This story includes a 24/7 kink relationship that encompasses D/s, bondage, and spanking, both with a hand and with a hairbrush.
> 
> Thank you to Lake for encouragement and nudging to make this better. Title from Avicii's "Wake Me Up.

Jeff is usually so chill and easygoing that it doesn't take long for his irritated restlessness to make Mike just as irritated, especially because he doesn't get it. There doesn't seem to be any reason for it: things are good in LA, and it's not like Jeff hasn't gotten laid since they've been back.

Maybe he just hasn't gotten laid in the right way. In Philly, there were places they used to go, the two of them into different sides of it but learning it at the same time in the same places. Mike doesn't have any problem with getting something of that now - girls sometimes expect him to be a little rough, or at least don't mind when he is - but it's probably different for Jeff on the other side of it.

"Would you just go out and find a dom?" he snaps, after one more grouchy complaint about how the grocery store didn't have exactly what Jeff wanted.

Jeff glares at him. "I'm a sub so I just need to be slapped around, right? Nice, Richie. Way to buy into all that shit."

"Oh, fuck you." Mike barely manages not to shout. "I don't think that. You don't need it because you're a sub. You need it because you're my friend and because you're driving me crazy and because I know you've gotten laid and that didn't take care of it. And if I were as stressed out as you are right now, I'd go pick up a sub. I know you didn't do it much in Philly, but this is LA. I'm sure you can find someone who can keep it quiet."

They stare at each other for a few seconds before Jeff gives in.

"Fuck," he mutters. "I can't just go out. Maybe no one would know who I am, but LA is the land of opportunity. I'm not going to sub for someone who just wants to sell pictures of it to the highest bidder."

Mike winces; he thinks about that too, but it wouldn't be as bad for him as it would for Jeff. He would just be a little weird. Jeff would get a whole other level of shit. "You need to come up with something because this," he waves a hand to indicate the whole situation, "isn't working."

Jeff rubs a hand over his face. "I know."

They stand there for a bit, adrenaline from their fight fading away. Mike calms down even more when Arnold wanders in demanding attention and he crouches down to give it to him.

Jeff's looking at him with a strange expression when he stands up.

"What?"

"Could I," Jeff starts out hesitantly, and then blurts out, "Could I kneel for you? Just for a little while? Please? I think it might help."

Mike swallows down his first instinct, which is to order Jeff to his knees right there in the kitchen. He's a better dom - and a better friend - than that.

"Are you sure?" he asks instead. "It's not going to make things weird?"

"I think if I could handle taking orders from you as my Captain for three years in Philly, I can handle kneeling for you for a while."

Mike knows what to look for in a sub who might be lying, and he knows all of Jeff's tells, and he's not seeing any of that. He hasn't played in a while either, and having Jeff on his knees for him would probably be good on its own, even if he didn't also want to be in control in response to the way Jeff's been recently.

"Okay," he says, "but not in here. The floor'll be hell on your knees. Living room."

Mike sits on the couch and tosses one of the pillows - he bought for practicality as well as look - on the floor next to his feet.

"There," he says. "Make sure it's comfortable."

He waits it out while Jeff kneels, shifts around so the pillow is where he wants it, and finally settles. Then he squeezes the back of Jeff's neck. He keeps that hand there while he grabs the remote with the other. He flips channels for a bit, and stops on Food Network. It's just interesting enough to keep his attention and neutral enough not to interfere with Jeff's headspace.

He can feel Jeff relaxing under his hand, keeps an eye on his breathing.

They're halfway through the second episode of whatever it is Food Network shows on Sunday afternoons when Jeff sighs and leans into Mike's knee.

"Better?" Mike asks.

"Yeah. Thanks."

Mike squeezes the back of his neck. "You're welcome."

*

Mike lets it be for a couple of calmer days, before he says, "So. The other day," after they've finished eating but before Jeff can get up from the table. "When you were kneeling for me," he clarifies, just in case Jeff can't figure out what it is they need to talk about.

Jeff makes a face at him. "Do we have to talk about it?"

Mike makes a face back at him. "Yes."

"It was good," Jeff says. "It helped. Can we stop talking about it?"

Mike puts his hand on Jeff's wrist. "Not yet." He rubs his thumb over the inside of Jeff's wrist, which is a dirty trick, but he's not above cheating. "What did you like?"

"Uh." Jeff stares at Mike's hand for a second before he answers. "Kneeling. Being comfortable. Your hand on my neck."

"Good." Mike squeezes Jeff's wrist, reward for being honest. "I liked that too. I liked watching you calm down. Anything you would change?"

There's a twitch of unhappiness on Jeff's lips.

"What?"

"Sandra Lee," Jeff says. "I can't stand her. It was harder to get there while you were watching her."

Mike stares at him for a long second before he chuckles. "Okay," he says, "no Sandra Lee." He lets go of Jeff's wrist.

"What about you?" Jeff asks it kind of grudgingly, and he rubs his wrist while he does. "Anything you would change?"

Mike shrugs. "I'd rather do without the three days of crankiness beforehand, but other than that it was good." He stands up and takes both of their plates. "Now we can stop talking about it."

*

Jeff wanders into the kitchen one afternoon when Mike's finishing off a bottle of Gatorade and sort of idly thinking about a snack and says, "Would you, uh, tie me up?"

Mike blinks, and looks at him. They don't have anywhere to be until tomorrow, and he already took Arnold out. They have the uninterrupted time for it, and it's not like Mike has a problem tying people up, or playing with Jeff.

He drinks the rest of his Gatorade. "What do you want out of it?"

"I want," Jeff looks down, and he's twisting one hand around the opposite wrist, "to not have to do anything. To give it all up to someone else."

And Mike likes to be in charge. He tosses the empty Gatorade bottle into the recycling. "Cuffs or rope?"

Jeff's eyes widen, and he says, sounding a little like Mike just offered him the Stanley Cup, Olympic gold, and an unending contract all in one, "Rope."

"Do you need a word, or do you want me to stop if you say stop?"

"Stop if I say stop."

Mike nods. "Okay. Go upstairs, my room. Take off your shirt and shorts, underwear's up to you, and lie down on your back on the bed."

Jeff turns around and goes.

Mike waits until he can hear Jeff's footsteps on the stairs before he stretches his arms out and gets a couple of bottles of water out of the fridge. He checks on Arnold to make sure he isn't going to need anything, and only then does he go upstairs.

Jeff's on the bed in just his underwear, his clothes folded neatly over the back of the chair in the corner. His breathing's a little uneven, but not anything to worry about.

Mike ignores him, closes the door to keep Arnold out, puts the water bottles down on one of the nightstands, and goes into the closet. There's rope in the box in the corner of the top shelf, and a pair of sturdy scissors. Mike puts the scissors on the nightstand and lets the lengths of rope pool on the bed. His bed frame isn't the best for this - if he's ever going to play with people regularly, he's going to have to get something better - but he walks around it attaching lengths of rope to it with sturdy knots that don't give when he pulls on them. He takes his time, and listens to Jeff while he does it.

Jeff's breathing settles down somewhere in there, and it's pretty even when Mike picks up one of his hands and loops some rope around his wrist. He ties a knot that's secure but easier to pull apart than the ones on the bed, and ties the rope to one of the lengths attached to the bed.

He does the other wrist before he has Jeff pull on them. There isn't much play; he can't go more than an inch in any one direction, and the knots hold.

"I don't want to struggle," Jeff says.

"Uh-huh," Mike says. "And how much are you going to like it if you know it's not going to hold you?" He doesn't wait for an answer before he ties Jeff's ankles and makes him tug on those too. Mike doesn't like the angle, and he reties them, makes Jeff tug on them again.

It leaves him with a lot of rope, and he takes his time with it. He runs a length under Jeff and ties it around his waist, another around his chest, ties both of those to the ropes around his wrists. He ties loops around Jeff's biceps and halfway between his wrists and elbows, and ties them off to the rope around his chest and waist. Loops around his calves get tied to his ankles, and the ones around his thighs to the one around his waist.

Jeff's breathing deep and even, and he has his eyes closed and all his muscles are relaxed. Mike's just as relaxed, in the alert way he gets when he has someone firmly under his control.

Mike puts the rest of the rope on the nightstand and taps Jeff's arm. "Pull on all of that."

Jeff does, and none of it gives.

"Anything too tight?"

"No." Jeff's voice is soft and hazy.

"Anything too loose?"

It takes a moment before Jeff says, "Right thigh."

Mike reties it tighter. "Better?"

Jeff shifts a little, and his mouth curves into a smile. "Yeah."

Mike squeezes his thigh and moves up to sit on the bed by Jeff's shoulder. He puts his hand on Jeff, not his neck because they didn't talk about that and he's not sure how Jeff would react to it, but just below his throat, over his collarbones.

Jeff makes a noise, but it's not a bad noise, so Mike keeps his hand there. It reminds Jeff he's there, and he can feel Jeff's breath.

Mike sits there for a while, watching Jeff stay calm under his hand and his ropework. His control. He really needs to play more for how good it makes him feel.

He can feel the change in Jeff's body when he starts to come back from it, and he rubs his hand over Jeff's collarbones, over to his shoulder.

"You ready for me to untie you?"

Jeff's hands flex, and he stretches against the rope before he says, "Yeah," still hazy.

Mike squeezes his shoulder and gets off the bed. The rope comes off easier than it went on. He pulls on the knots, coils the rope into piles on the floor. He goes backwards: thighs, calves, lower arms, upper arms, chest, waist, ankles, and wrists last. He leaves the rope tied to the bed frame; he can get that later.

"Sit up," he says. "I want you to drink this." He uncaps one of the water bottles and puts his hand on Jeff's back to make sure he can sit up without getting dizzy.

Jeff leans on him while he drinks, and he's shivering enough that Mike asks, "Cold?" when he's done and Mike guides him to lie down again.

"A little."

Mike pulls the blankets up over Jeff, who curls himself into a ball under them. Mike finishes Jeff's bottle of water and runs his hand over Jeff's hair. "Cuddling or no cuddling?" He wants to stay close, but not if it's not going to work for Jeff.

Jeff leans into Mike's hand. "Yes, please."

Mike squeezes the back of his neck and carefully climbs over him so he can slide under the blankets and align himself with Jeff without making Jeff move. He puts one arm over Jeff to hold him there. "Good?"

"Yeah." Jeff relaxes a little out of his tight curl. "Thank you." He puts his hand over Mike's on his stomach. "This was really good."

Mike holds him a little closer. "You're welcome. You were really good."

*

"There isn't much in here," Mike says, looking over the contents of the refrigerator while he's getting a bottle of water. "We should probably make a shopping list. What are you cooking this week?"

"You make a list," Jeff says. "It's your fucking house."

"Are you trying to-" Mike stops before he finishes the question, and reconsiders the past two days of petulance and petty arguments from another perspective. He manages to ask, "Do you want me to punish you?" calmly.

The way Jeff looks away from him means he's got it right. Mike doesn't much like being manipulated into it, but it doesn't actually sound like a bad idea. He's annoyed enough to make it real without being so angry he'll push harder than Jeff can take.

"What do you think an appropriate punishment would be?"

Jeff looks at him, and then away again. "A spanking?"

Mike breathes in and out a couple of times. "You're going to need a word."

"Red."

Mike nods. "Red and I stop. Go into the living room. Pants and shirt off, underwear up to you."

Mike spends a minute breathing while Jeff moves around. As good as it's going to feel to smack Jeff's ass for a while, he really doesn't like being manipulated into it.

He calls for Arnold and locks him in the garage with a squeaky toy and one of his doggie beds to keep him out of the way.

Jeff is waiting in the living room. He's all the way naked this time, standing by one arm of the couch and looking a little more unsure about it.

Mike sits down in the center of the couch, makes himself more or less comfortable, and says, "Over my knees."

Mike watches Jeff carefully, making him do all the work, but also making sure it's not uncomfortable in ways it's not supposed to be. Mad or not, he's still responsible for Jeff right now.

He doesn't wait for Jeff to settle all the way before he smacks him, which gets an indrawn breath of sound from Jeff.

"You don't have to count," Mike says, "and you don't have to be quiet."

He hits Jeff, and again, and again, and again. He settles into a rhythm, evenly timed, even strength, until Jeff's relaxed under his hands and Mike wants more out of it than he's getting, and then he hits harder. He lets Jeff get used to that, ride it out for a while, and then he hits harder again. 

This time Jeff swears. He keeps swearing as Mike hits him, and the next time Mike hits harder, his voice breaks and he starts crying in muffled gasps. He's still relaxed, body limp and pliant over Mike's lap, so Mike keeps going. He didn't ask exactly what Jeff wanted out of this, but he wanted to be punished, and he hasn't safeworded out, hasn't even said as much as "stop."

When Mike's hand really starts to hurt and Jeff's crying is dying down into soft, wordless gasps, Mike says, "Ten more."

After ten, he stops. His hand is on fire, and Jeff's ass has to be worse. He feels good, though, calm, all his anger burned away. He rubs Jeff's back with his other hand and listens to Jeff's breathing slow. It takes a while before Mike feels okay saying, "Let me up."

He helps Jeff up enough that he can slide out from under him, and then he guides Jeff right back down. "Stay there. I'll be right back." He squeezes the back of Jeff's neck as a promise.

He takes the stairs as quickly as he can without making the kind of noise that might unsettle Jeff. If Jeff had given him more notice, he would have something downstairs, but at least he knows exactly where the lotion he wants is.

Jeff is just where Mike left him when he comes back with the bottle. His ass is bright red, and he has his head turned toward the back of the couch.

Mike says, "I'm going to put some lotion on that," so Jeff knows he's there. He rubs the lotion in carefully, and strokes Jeff's back when he's done. "I'm going to the kitchen for a minute. When you're ready, get up and put on your underwear." Mike waits for Jeff's murmur of acknowledgment before he goes to the kitchen for a couple of bottles of water and an ice pack.

Jeff's standing, cheeks still damp and eyes down, when Mike gets back.

Mike uncaps a bottle of water. "Here." He gives it to Jeff and watches to make sure Jeff drinks most of it. Then he takes it and puts it on the coffee table with the other one and sits at one end of the couch. "Lie down." He pats his thighs. "Head here. Ass up."

Jeff does, and relaxes with a sigh.

"This is going to be cold," Mike warns him, and he puts the ice pack on Jeff's ass. He set the DVR to record some Food Network stuff that isn't Sandra Lee, so he pulls that up and rests his burning hand on the ice pack while they watch. Jeff's occasional shivers get more frequent about the time Mike would take the ice pack off anyway, so he tosses it onto the coffee table and pulls the blanket down from the back of the couch. He gets Jeff covered with it and asks, "Okay?"

Jeff rubs his cheek against Mike's thigh. "Yeah." His voice is tired but not rough enough for Mike to worry about it.

Mike strokes Jeff's hair for a moment, and leaves his hand on the back of Jeff's neck.

*

They go out of town two days later, and Mike doesn't get much time alone with Jeff on the road, definitely not enough time to talk about it. They need to, but Mike lets it go the night they get home, just drives them back to the house so they can stumble up the stairs to bed. They both sleep in the next morning, Mike later than Jeff, and Jeff gathers up their laundry and throws a load in the wash while Mike gets through a cup of coffee.

They don't talk about it until after lunch, when they're picking at the last of a couple of boxes of Chinese food.

"We're talking about last week," Mike says.

Jeff puts his fork down and rests his hands on the edge of the table.

"Was it what you wanted?" Mike asks.

"Yes." Jeff looks up at Mike, then away and flushes. "I wanted it to hurt."

"Anything you wanted different?"

Jeff still doesn't look at him, but he twists one hand around his other wrist. "It's better if my hands are tied."

Mike takes that in and watches Jeff not look at him. He could handle tying Jeff's hands. Would love to tie Jeff's hands, make him look less nervous about this. "I liked making you feel that," he says. "I did not like you provoking your way into it."

Jeff doesn't answer, and Mike lets them sit in silence until Jeff offers up, "Sorry."

Good enough. Mike nods. "Now let's talk about the whole thing. Once or twice is helping you out. Three times is the start of a pattern."

The flush on Jeff's face spreads all the way up to his hair and down to his neck. "I guess."

Mike shakes his head. Figures this would be the place where Jeff's so caught up in his head that he can't see they're on the same page. "I'm not saying no."

That gets Jeff to look at him. "You're not?"

"No. You're a good sub. I like playing with you. I'm saying let's talk about it instead of you winding us both up for days to get what you want."

Jeff makes a face. "That makes me sound like a terrible sub."

Mike concedes the point with a nod and half a smile. "You're good when we're playing. So let's figure this out, or let's find you a dom."

"I'd rather it be you."

Mike would rather have that too. "Okay," he says. "Just to put this out there, I don't want to fuck you."

The face Jeff makes at that makes him laugh.

"I don't want to fuck you either."

"Good," Mike says. "We're on the same page. So, what? You want to just ask me when you want something? Want to make regular play dates?"

"Um."

Mike tries his best to stay patient when he says, "You're going to have to learn to ask for things."

Jeff doesn't look at him, but he does talk. "You could tell me what to do. Not all the time. Not out there," he makes a gesture toward the walls, "but in here. When it's just us."

Mike sits back in his chair, because that's more than he expected. He takes a minute to think about it. It's not something he's ever done, obviously, but he probably could. He would probably like it, Jeff doing what he says.

"Full-time," he clarifies, "like, you'd have to do what I say whenever it's just us here?"

"Yes."

Mike exhales and sits forward. "Okay," he says. "What do you like?"

"I have a list," Jeff says, and he glances up to meet Mike's eyes. "Something I read said you should make one so you know what you like and what you don't."

"I'll want to see it," Mike says, "and I'll give you mine too. But we'll get to that. Tell me what you like."

Jeff hesitates for a moment before he answers. "You being in control. Bondage. Kneeling for you. I liked it when your hand was on my neck."

"You liked when I punished you," Mike says. "Pain?"

"Sometimes." Jeff's back to looking away. "Not all the time, but sometimes I want it to hurt. What do you like?"

Mike says, "Being in control," without hesitation, and grins at Jeff's snort. "I liked tying you up. I can do pain, but it's more about being in control of what you feel."

Jeff's hand goes to the back of his neck. "Does that mean we can do this?"

"We can try it, see if it works. A couple of days?"

"A week?" Jeff ducks his head a little and looks up at Mike. It's a manipulative trick, but a week sounds fine to Mike.

"A week," he agrees, "and then we'll see if we want to keep going or change things. Tell me if you want to stop or you don't want something. I'll let you know if we're doing something you'll need more of a word for." Mike waits for Jeff's agreement before he asks, "Anything else you want to negotiate?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Jeff looks up at him, and then down again. "Would you just tell me what to do already?"

"I'll tell you what to do when I want to." Mike reaches across the table and squeezes his wrist, settling into what it feels like to be in control of Jeff again. "And you'll be polite when you ask for what you want."

Jeff nods, and Mike lets go of him and sits back. He just looks at Jeff for a long minute. "Clean up." He gestures at the table. "I'm going to take a nap. You can do whatever you want after this is cleaned up. I'm not going to micromanage you. When I'm not telling you what to do, things are the same."

Jeff squares his shoulders and closes boxes, gathers up their plates. He says, "Thank you," just before he takes things into the kitchen.

Mike watches him go. Jeff's relaxed, and there's a little bit of a smile on his face when he turns at an angle where Mike can see him.

Mike keeps watching for a bit. Jeff makes a questioning face at him when he comes back for the rest of the boxes. Mike shrugs at him, trusting Jeff to know that means he doesn't want anything more than to watch Jeff do what Mike told him to.

*

A week of their lives only translates into a few days where they're at home alone for any length of time. Mike tells Jeff to make lunch or dinner a couple of times, he has Jeff kneel for him a while they watch TV or Mike answers emails and texts, and he puts Jeff up against a wall one afternoon and ties his wrists to his ankles with rope so taut he can barely move. It's even better than Mike thought it would be. Jeff's a great sub when he's not acting out to get what he wants and domming fills Mike with a kind of satisfaction he didn't know he was missing until he had it again.

They have a day off after an away game in the middle of their week. Mike catches up to Jeff after the game and asks, "You have plans for tomorrow?"

"No." Jeff glances around, which he doesn't need to do; Mike already made sure no one's paying attention to them. "Are you making plans?"

"Yes." Mike catches Jeff's wrist and squeezes for a second. "Keep the day free."

Jeff leans against his shoulder for a brief second, short enough that it'll look like he's just bumping against him.

*

Mike sleeps late, and Jeff already has coffee made and breakfast ready to be made when he gets downstairs. Mike takes his cup of coffee from Jeff and leans against the counter to watch Jeff make breakfast. They sit at the table to eat, and Mike sends Jeff to wash the dishes while he goes upstairs to set up.

"I left some things for you on your bed," Mike says when he comes downstairs and Jeff's done. "Put them on."

Jeff hesitates for a moment. "What about Arnold?"

"The sitter's keeping him until tomorrow." Mike points at the stairs. "Go."

He settles onto the couch and flips channels. There's more Food Network on the DVR, but he's not watching cooking shows all day. He settles on _Oddities_ and is just getting into it when Jeff comes downstairs and waits at the edge of the room. Mike makes him wait until it goes to commercial before he acknowledges Jeff.

"Long sleeves and sweats?" Jeff asks. He has on the clothes Mike left out for him, and there are cuffs just visible at his wrists and ankles.

"I'm going to put you under and keep you there all day." Mike watches Jeff shiver at his words. "I wanted you to be comfortable." He drops one of the pillows onto the floor. "Here. Knees." He waits until Jeff makes himself comfortable before he touches him, hand on the back of his neck. Jeff makes a noise, and Mike squeezes. "I won't keep you there long enough for your knees to hurt."

Jeff mmms. "I know."

Mike squeezes the back of his neck again, acknowledgement of Jeff's trust and reminder that Mike's in control. He keeps half his attention on Jeff, enough to make sure he's still okay. After a while, he squeezes the back of Jeff's neck and says, "Come up here. On your side, head in my lap. Careful." He keeps a hand on Jeff, ready to catch him if he has trouble, but Jeff pulls himself up easily enough. Mike takes clips out of his pockets and leans over to clip Jeff's ankle cuffs together, then his wrists.

The look Jeff turns on him is positively adoring.

Mike strokes his hair in reward and his own gesture to let Jeff know the feeling is returned. "Tell me if it gets uncomfortable."

They spend the rest of the morning there. Mike lets Jeff up for bathroom breaks, and sends him to the kitchen for water. They go from _Oddities_ to _How It's Made_ , and then Mike picks _Good Eats_ , which he's seen Jeff watch, from the DVR. When it's over, he warns Jeff, "I'm going to order lunch," before he takes his phone out and calls in an order. The warning also means Jeff doesn't jump when the doorbell rings.

"Stay here." Mike gets Jeff to lift up enough that he can get up, and he pays for the food and sets it out on the table before he goes to retrieve Jeff. He unclips Jeff and drops the clips into his pocket. Then he picks up one of the pillows and tucks it under his arm before he helps Jeff up.

He puts the pillow down next to his chair. "Sit," he tells Jeff. "However you'll be comfortable." He makes up two plates while Jeff gets settled and gives one of them to Jeff. Mike strokes Jeff's hair every once in a while and they eat in silence until their plates are clear and Mike asks if Jeff wants anything else. He dishes up the rice and beef and broccoli Jeff asks for and keeps his hand on Jeff until he's done. Jeff is as deep under as he can be and still have the focus to eat, and Mike's breath is even and steady, everything in his world calm and under his control.

Mike breaks Jeff's fortune cookie into pieces for him, reads the fortune to him - "If you continually give, you will continually have." - and hand feeds him the cookie pieces.

After lunch, he sends Jeff to clean up the dishes and leftovers. He takes the cushion back to the couch and goes to lean on a counter and watch Jeff finish putting things away. When he's done, Mike clips his wrists together.

"Ready for a nap?"

Jeff nods. "Yes." His voice is soft, and a little rough.

Mike leads him upstairs and into his room and pushes him down into his bed. "Are you going to be able to sleep with your wrists tied?"

Jeff pulls his hands in close to his chest, as if Mike would unclip them if Jeff didn't want him to. "Yes."

"Wake me up if you need something. That's an order." Mike waits for Jeff's acknowledgment before he stretches out next to him and puts an arm over him.

Mike can tell, when he wakes up, that Jeff's already awake. He turns Jeff over onto his back. "Still good?"

Jeff smiles up at him, still so deep he looks like he's drugged. "I'm great."

Mike grins down at him and squeezes his shoulder. "You're doing great." He unclips Jeff's wrists and sends him to the bathroom, then puts him back on his bed. "Stay there."

Mike grins at himself in the mirror when he goes to the bathroom; he looks almost as high as Jeff.

In the bedroom, Mike pulls out the straps he'd hidden under the edges of the mattress. He clips Jeff's cuffs, wrist and ankle, to the straps and tightens them until Jeff can't move. Mike knows by now that Jeff always goes for rope when given the choice, but he's so far under that it won't take much to keep him there. Mike likes the rope too, but right now he wants to just enjoy having Jeff under more than he wants to spend the time on rope.

He sits next to Jeff when he's satisfied with how he's tied down, and Jeff turns his head to smile at him.

"Thank you," Jeff says. "This is so good. You're so good to me."

Mike puts his hands on either side of Jeff's face, and strokes his hair. He's never loved any sub he's played with the way he loves Jeff.

He keeps Jeff tied for a while, stroking his hair and touching his shoulders. Mike doesn't get bored, exactly, but he gets antsy after a while, sitting there for too long, and he unclips Jeff and makes him move carefully in case any of his limbs have fallen asleep.

Mike lets Jeff curl up next to him and nuzzle into his hip for a bit before he gets Jeff up, hand on his elbow because Jeff's pretty deep under now and Mike doesn't know what that's going to do to his balance. They take the stairs carefully.

It's a tough fit, but Mike gets them both lying down on the couch, and then he turns on the TV to something unremarkable and turns the sound down. He wraps his arms around Jeff instead of clipping his cuffs together; Jeff will like the contact, and Mike wants him to have his hands free in case this turns out to be a bad enough fit that one of them falls off the couch.

"All right, up," Mike says later. "I'm going to order dinner." He squeezes Jeff's shoulder. "You can sit." He goes into the kitchen to call it in, so it's still quiet around Jeff. He comes back to find that Jeff is sitting on one of the pillows on the floor. Jeff is definitely the best sub he's ever played with, completely trusting, putting himself entirely under Mike's control, even when Mike doesn't give him explicit orders. Mike sits down next to him and rubs his fingers over Jeff's scalp until dinner gets there.

Mike takes the food to the table, then comes back for Jeff. He has Jeff kneel next to him, and he makes up one plate. He feeds Jeff from his plate, holds a cup to Jeff's lips for sips of water. It takes longer that way, but Jeff keeps swaying into him, and that's worth it.

After they eat, Mike cups Jeff's chin. "I need you to come back a little. Come on. I want you to clean up." He has to wait for it, but when Jeff's a little more with it, he sends him to the kitchen.

They hang out in the living room for a while - Mike sits on the couch and tells Jeff to lie down with his head on Mike's thigh, which Jeff does with his face tucked into Mike's stomach - and Mike checks his email and pets Jeff's hair.

Mike's tired and Jeff's half asleep when Mike decides it's time for bed even though it's still early. He walks Jeff upstairs and stops in the hallway.

"We're not done, but I'm going to take the cuffs off now." He squeezes Jeff's wrists. "I want you to go get ready for bed, whatever you usually do, and then come to my room." He takes the cuffs off Jeff's wrists first, then crouches down to get the ones around his ankles.

Mike puts the cuffs away, brushes his teeth and changes into something he can sleep in, and then spends a minute cleaning up. He tucks the straps under the bed, throws clothes in the hamper, sets out two short lengths of soft rope neatly on the nightstand.

When Jeff comes to his room, Mike looks out to make sure the rest of the lights in the house are off, then closes his door. "These shouldn't get in your way while you sleep," he says, and he ties a length of rope around each of Jeff's wrists. It's softer than the cuffs, but it's still a reminder for Jeff that Mike's in control, that Mike will tie him up because he loves it, and Mike loves giving that to him. "Wake me up if you need to, or you can take it off in the morning."

He tucks Jeff into bed, turns off the light, and climbs in with him. He barely has to prompt Jeff at all before Jeff is curling into him.

"Thank you," Jeff says. His voice is the barest rasp of a whisper.

"Thank _you_ ," Mike says. "You've been so, so good today."

"You make it easy."

*

It takes Mike a minute to wake up enough to register that Jeff's also awake. Of course he is; Jeff always gets up before he does.

Mike grunts out a greeting, then makes himself wake up enough to be responsible. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Jeff says.

Mike turns Jeff onto his back and props himself up on an elbow to look down at him.

Jeff smiles up at him. He's not gone like he was yesterday, but he's relaxed. Loose. "I'm good," he says. "Really good. I just didn't want." He shrugs a little.

Mike sits up and knuckles the sleep out of his eyes. "You could've woken me up." He picks up one of Jeff's hands and unties the rope around his wrist. He lets the rope drop onto the bed and does the other wrist.

Jeff sits up, stretches, and hugs Mike. "Thank you."

Mike hugs him back and pats his shoulder. "You're welcome." He yawns wide enough to crack his jaw. "Now get your morning person ass out of my bed."

Jeff laughs as he goes, and Mike grins and lets himself fall back into bed for a while.

*

They go out with some of the guys, and Mike is at the bar ordering a drink and getting the lay of the land when his phone buzzes.

There's a text from Jeff asking, _Are you going to hook up?_

It's still early in the evening to be making that decision for sure, so Mike sends back, _Maybe._ He catches Jeff's eye across the room, so he knows that's not what Jeff was looking for even before he gets Jeff's next text.

_Is it OK if I hook up?_

Mike blinks at his phone - permission wasn't what he was expecting Jeff to look for - and quickly types out, _Sex isn't part of our deal. If you want to hook up, hook up._ He hits send and then erases the whole exchange.

They end up, later, at a table with a couple of girls - Kristy and Ali - who are friends, and who are pretty into them. Their usual thing of Mike talking and Jeff providing the occasional laconic contribution works well enough that the four of them pile into a cab when they leave the bar. A quick, silent, negotiation puts Mike in the front with the driver and Jeff in the back with the girls.

Mike offers them drinks at the house. The girls exchange a look - they must pick up together as much as Mike and Jeff do - and Ali takes Mike's hand.

"Why don't you take me upstairs?"

Mike's too mature to do something stupid like exchange a thumbs-up with Jeff behind the girls' backs, but they get the same idea across with just a look.

Ali takes her shirt off after Mike closes the door to his room. He does a quick glance around to make sure he didn't leave anything she shouldn't see lying around, and then he turns his attention to Ali's really quite nice breasts.

She won't blow him, but she jerks him off a little while he makes sure she's really wet and into this, and then they fuck in his bed.

Mike's not sure if the noises he can hear Kristy making all the way from Jeff's room are making the afterglow better or worse, and says as much to Ali.

"She's kind of a screamer," Ali says, and then she cocks her head and listens for a moment. "She's riding his face."

"What?" Mike splutters with a laugh.

Ali shrugs as best as she can while lying in his bed with his arm around her. "We used to live together. I've heard her enough. She only sounds like that when she's riding someone's face."

Well, Mike thinks but doesn't say, at least Jeff's probably getting off on it.

*

They're out of town on the last day of their week. Mike has errands to run and laundry to do in what's left of the morning after he gets up the next day, they have skate in the afternoon, and then they go out to dinner with some of the guys. Mike can honestly say he's too tired to go out after that, and Jeff glances at him before following his lead.

"You could've gone with them," Mike says in the car.

"Not really feeling it," Jeff says. "Are we going to talk?"

Mike's too tired for clubbing or bar hopping, but not too tired for negotiating. "If you want," he says. "It can wait until tomorrow."

"I'd rather today," Jeff says.

Mike nods, and they don't talk on the rest of the way home.

Mike takes Arnold out after they get home, and comes back into the house to find Jeff sitting at the table with a bottle of water in front of him and another at Mike's place across the table. Mike uncaps his and drinks half of it in one go.

Jeff seems to be waiting for Mike to take the lead, so he starts with. "That was a week and you've had some time to think about it. Did you like it?"

"Yes," Jeff says without hesitation.

Mike was expecting that, so he prods a little deeper. "Was it what you wanted?" It was what Jeff said he wanted, but things don't always work the way people think they will.

"Yes," Jeff says.

Mike's used to Jeff's reticence and can usually get what he wants out of him from context, but that's not enough here. "You're going to have to give me more than that," he says without heat. Jeff does have to tell him more, but he's not surprised or particularly upset that he has to push to get it.

Jeff fidgets with his water bottle for a moment. Mike lets him because he knows the difference between Jeff not saying much and Jeff figuring out what he wants to say.

"It was like," Jeff finally says, "you put me under for a whole day, which was-" Jeff's eyes meet his, and they're shining with the same kind of ecstasy from when he was under all day.

Mike nods to let Jeff know that he gets it and that Jeff doesn't have to try to find the words to describe that.

"The whole time was a little like that," Jeff says. "Not as intense, but I could feel it the whole time, that you could just put me under any time you wanted."

Mike shudders a little, because he certainly felt gratifyingly in control, but he didn't know he was getting Jeff that deep. He takes a breath to stay calm, and then remembers this is _Jeff_ and he doesn't need to keep anything from him.

"Fuck, Cartsy."

Jeff flushes, and Mike grabs his wrist before he can get even more uncomfortable.

"I want to put you on your knees right now."

Jeff meets his eyes. "You could."

Mike exhales hard and lets go of him. "Not until we talk about it. You'd do it again?"

"Mike," Jeff says with a look that says Mike is being an idiot, "I would do it _all the time_."

If Mike were still holding onto him, he'd be tightening his grip right now.

"Right," Mike says, trying to stay focused enough to do this right. "Okay. We should do another set period of time. Make sure it works longer term. A month?"

"Yes."

"Anything you want to change? Limits, or anything you want me to do?"

"No other limits." Jeff hesitates.

"Come on," Mike says. "You have to ask for the things you want."

"Rope," Jeff says, flushing. "I want you to tie me up more."

Mike has some rope he hasn't even used on Jeff yet. He shakes off the thought of how good that's going to be so he can figure out if there's anything else they need to cover.

"Hooking up," he says, and then laughs at Jeff's expression. "Not us, asshole. With other people. You don't need my permission." He looks at Jeff for a long moment, thinking about Jeff saying, "all the time," and asking if he could hook up, then amends it to, "Or you always have my permission, if that's better."

Jeff nods. "Okay."

"Okay," Mike says. "Anything else?"

"No. You?"

"No." Mike drinks from from his water to give them both a minute to let it sink in. "Want to come kneel in the living room for a while before bed?"

Jeff says, "Yes," almost before Mike is finished speaking, and Mike can feel the weight of it settling into him.

*

Mike takes a hit in a home game against the Sharks. It's not _bad_ \- the trainers and Stevens lean over him to talk about it once he gets off the ice, but he goes back out for his next shift and he plays the rest of the game - but it's enough that his shoulder hurts like hell.

He spends some time with the doc and the trainers after the game, having his shoulder poked and prodded and being told what to do about it. They drove to the rink together, so Jeff is hanging around waiting for him when he's done, and Mike's too irritated and in pain to be nice about having made him wait.

Jeff doesn't say anything to him about it, just holds out his hand for the keys.

Mike scowls but hands them over. He could drive with his shoulder if he had to, but he's pissed off, not stupid.

They don't talk in the car. Mike keeps switching radio stations, then plugs in his iPod and scrolls through playlists without letting any of them play for very long.

Arnold comes rushing to meet them when Mike opens the door to the house. Mike leans down to pet him and winces when it pulls on his shoulder.

"Okay, buddy, I'll take you out."

"No, you won't." Jeff puts his hand on Mike's back when he stands and pushes him into the house. "You're going to put ice on your shoulder and I'm going to take him out." He keeps up the steady pressure on Mike's back all the way to the couch.

It's funny, because they're home alone, and Mike is mad but not at Jeff, so he can almost laugh when he asks, "You're bossing me around now?"

"Yes. I'll kneel for you after I take Arnold out if you want, but right now you're going to put some ice on that, and if you try to argue with me I will stop this whole thing."

Mike knows enough to know that when Jeff gets stubborn like this, there's no getting around him.

Jeff gets him an ice pack from the freezer and makes sure he's comfortable on the couch before he leaves him with the remote, his phone, and a bottle of Gatorade.

It's late, but Mike's not going to be able to sleep yet, so he turns on the TV and replies to texts while he waits for the ice to make his shoulder feel better.

Jeff and Arnold aren't gone long, and Arnold noses at Mike's hands and knees before he turns himself around a couple of times and flops down on the floor in front of the couch.

"That's my spot," Jeff says mildly. He makes his feet fit between bits of Arnold and the couch and leans over Mike. "How's the shoulder?"

"Fucking hurts."

Jeff hmms. "Do you want me on my knees? If not, I could sit with you."

Mike closes his eyes for a moment. He doesn't have it in him to figure Jeff out right now. "You have to ask for what you want." He snaps it, which he probably shouldn't have, but Jeff just looks at him steadily for a second before he answers.

"I want you to feel better. Do you want me to kneel, or do you want to lean on me?"

It takes all the fight out of Mike. "Come sit with me." He doesn't want the responsibility of Jeff on his knees right now, and Jeff will like the contact.

Jeff manhandles him a little getting them comfortable with Jeff supporting his shoulder. Then he pushes Mike's hand off the ice pack and takes over making sure it doesn't move so all Mike has to do is sit there and let him.

"Thanks," Mike says after a while, when he's starting to feel a little better. "Sorry I was an asshole."

Jeff rests his cheek against Mike's good shoulder. "I know how you get. And you'll make it up to me."

There are advantages to having known each other for more than a decade, and that's one of them.

"I bought you some rope," Mike says, and he can feel Jeff's shiver. "When my shoulder's better, we'll play with it."

*

They have a morning skate that leaves everyone too cranky to make plans to hang out or get lunch or anything; they all just want to go home and forget about it until game time.

Mike is one of the guys stuck there after skate because the doc and the trainers want to check on his shoulder. It doesn't hurt anymore, and they tell him it looks good and that they don't have to check on it again unless it starts to hurt or he gets hit again.

That, at least, is a relief, but he's still irritated and on edge. He and Jeff took separate cars to the rink. If Jeff left just after practice, he's got to be almost home by now. It's probably pushing a little, but Mike texts him, _I'm leaving the rink now. Make lunch._

He can smell something cooking when he gets home, and Jeff calls, "I already took Arnold out," so Mike kicks off his shoes and goes to the kitchen with Arnold at his heels.

"It'll be ready soon," Jeff says.

Mike walks around the counter into the kitchen and looks over Jeff's shoulder. "Do you need to do anything with it right now?"

Jeff turns to face him. "It needs to be stirred every couple of minutes."

"On your knees." Mike usually tries to be careful of Jeff's knees, but if it's only going to be a few minutes, he can be on the hard kitchen floor, and telling Jeff to make lunch wasn't enough to satisfy what Mike wants right now.

Jeff folds without question. He clasps his hands together in front of him and keeps his eyes down.

Mike strokes Jeff's hair and then cups the back of his head and draws him in so Jeff's forehead is resting on his thigh. He lets Jeff stay there for a moment, both of them relaxing and breathing easier, before he says, "They said my shoulder's good. After lunch I'm going to tie you up with the rope I bought for you."

Jeff presses his forehead hard into Mike's thigh. "Yes, please."

Mike cups the back of his neck. "I'll take care of you," he promises. "Now get up before lunch burns."

Jeff's moving easier when he gets up, and Mike certainly feels better.

They eat lunch with Arnold darting around them and under the table, whacking them with his tail and hoping for them to drop something.

"Leave the dishes," Mike says after they're done. It'll make more work for later, but he doesn't want to wait for Jeff to clean up. "Upstairs. My room. Wait for me."

Jeff goes, and Mike takes a couple of minutes to pet Arnold and grab a couple of bottles of water before he goes upstairs.

Jeff's waiting in the middle of Mike's bedroom, still dressed and standing. Mike ignores him while he puts the bottles of water down on the nightstand and gets the rope out of the closet. He tosses the rope on the bed. Jeff's eyes follow the rope, and Mike stands between it and Jeff to break his focus. This is Mike's show, and Jeff will get what Mike gives him.

Mike pulls Jeff's shirt up by the hem. He could tell Jeff to do it himself, but it's a good reminder for Jeff that everything is Mike's choice.

"Arms up." When Jeff obeys, Mike pulls his shirt off and tosses it to the side, guides Jeff's arms back down to his sides. He unbuttons Jeff's jeans, unzips them, and kneels to pull them down and balance Jeff while he steps out of them.

Mike makes sure Jeff's steady, arms at his sides, and he picks up the rope.

"It looks like the other rope," Mike says. He runs a length of it through his hands. "But it's bamboo. Softer than nylon or cotton." He drapes it over Jeff's shoulder and slides it over so Jeff can feel it. He gets a shiver of response out of Jeff.

Mike steps around behind Jeff and waits for a moment, making Jeff wait, before he starts twisting and looping rope around him. It takes a while, and Mike works slowly and carefully. He touches Jeff as much as he can while he puts the rope where he wants it and ties it off. In the end, it forms a harness of sorts, rope over Jeff's shoulders and crisscrossing over his chest with knots and loops forming lines down the center of his body, front and back. Mike tugs on it to make sure it's going to stay, and that it's not too tight or too loose.

"How does that feel?"

"Good."

"Yeah?" Mike runs his hand down Jeff's chest, running over rope and skin and pulling the rope a little. "How do you like the bamboo?"

"I like it," Jeff says. His head is tipped down just a bit, eyes closed, and he sways toward Mike a little. "Soft."

Mike chuckles and rubs his hand over one of the pieces of rope, rolling it against Jeff's skin. "Good on your skin?"

"Yes," Jeff says. "Mike, please."

Mike takes a step back so he can reach a new piece of rope, a shorter length. "Give me your hands." He wraps up Jeff's wrists, looping the rope around and around in thick cuffs and tying it off. "Try that." He taps Jeff's wrists to get Jeff to try to pull them apart.

Jeff makes a noise, and Mike taps his wrists again.

"Okay?"

Jeff turns dazed eyes on him. "I love this rope."

Mike loves it too, for what it does to Jeff. He puts an arm around Jeff and lets Jeff lean his forehead on his shoulder for a minute. "You want more of it?"

Jeff straightens up. "Yes, please."

Mike grabs a length of rope from the bed and crouches down. He ties Jeff's ankles together with just a little play between them. He runs a hand up the back of Jeff's leg from his ankle to his knee.

"Still good?"

"Yes."

"Good." Mike stands, takes a couple of steps backwards, and sits on the edge of the bed. "Come here. You can kneel here."

Jeff shuffles forward in tiny not quite steps, and when he's close enough, Mike holds onto him so he doesn't fall as he kneels.

Jeff sighs and folds forward even more so his forehead is on Mike's knee.

Mike strokes his hair, even, repetitive motion while Jeff's muscles go soft and relaxed.

It works on Mike, too, making him so calm he forgets about their shitty skate and thinks only about Jeff tied up and on his knees.

Mike rests his hand on the back of Jeff's neck when it's been long enough for Jeff's knees. "Come up here."

Jeff rolls his forehead against Mike's knee. "Let me stay. Please."

"It's going to hurt your knees," Mike says. "And we have a game later. We need a nap."

"I don't care."

"You will." Mike tightens his hand. "Come on, up." He pulls Jeff up onto the bed without making him stand all the way. He unties the knots at Jeff's ankles carefully and slides the rope across Jeff's skin when he pulls it away. He does the same thing with his wrists, and he has to move Jeff's arms apart to get to the knots holding the rope on his chest together.

"This isn't the only time," Mike promises when he pulls the last length of rope across Jeff's skin and away. "I bought it for you, and I'll tie you up with it again."

"Thank you," Jeff says.

"You're welcome." Mike runs his hands over Jeff's chest, and down to his wrists. "You're such a good sub." He tugs Jeff up the bed. "Come up here and take a nap with me."

Jeff settles in next to him, his breath already slow and even. Mike watches him make the almost imperceptible slide from awake to asleep, and even thinking ahead to the game or back to skate doesn't disturb his calm.

*

Mike has his phone counting down the days, and he tells - doesn't ask, but tells - Jeff that they're staying in after practice on the last no game, no travel day of their month. If Jeff isn't tracking their time that closely, he at least has to know what kind of thing Mike is planning.

Mike has Jeff cook lunch and do the dishes afterwards. He makes Jeff wait after that, hanging out on the couch with his phone until Jeff kneels next to him of his own accord. After a few minutes, when Jeff settles, Mike strokes Jeff's hair, over and over until Jeff is leaning into him and Mike doesn't want to leave him on his knees any longer.

He takes Jeff upstairs and ties him to the bed. It's enough to send Jeff under, but Mike's still itchy. This works well, and he doesn't think Jeff is going to want to stop, but their month is almost over.

Mike puts his hand on Jeff's shoulder. "I'm just going across the room. I'll be right back." He has a sleep mask - there are probably a couple of them in the house - and plenty of ties, but that's not what he wants. He wants something that will fit better with the rope, and somewhere in his closet is a piece of black silk just the right length.

He finds the drawer it's in, and folds it over as he walks back to Jeff. Jeff's eyes are open, and he's not so gone that he can't watch Mike, or figure out what Mike's doing. He lifts his head up before Mike tells him to.

"Good," Mike murmurs, and he pats Jeff's cheek before he wraps the cloth around his eyes twice and ties it off to the side, so Jeff isn't lying on the knot when he puts his head down. "Okay?"

"Yeah." Jeff turns his head toward Mike. "Really good."

Mike strokes his hair, and nudges Jeff's head back to center. It's better, having Jeff blindfolded, better to have him that much farther under Mike's control. Mike watches Jeff's chest rise and fall with slow, easy breaths. Then he puts his hand on Jeff, palm flat against Jeff's chest, fingers draping over a length of rope, and keeps it there for a minute before he takes it away for a while, and then puts it down on the other side of Jeff's chest.

Jeff twitches every time Mike puts his hand down, small shifts of muscle as he reacts to being touched, and his breath hitches more than once. It's better than just having Jeff tied up, even better than having him tied up and blindfolded.

Mike could get up and find something else to change the sensation for Jeff, but he likes making Jeff feel things with just his hands.

He does it for a while, watching the light on Jeff's chest as the afternoon sun lengthens. It's meditative, in a way, like tying Jeff up is, and Jeff stops reacting to it after a while, just takes it with the kind of easy acceptance that makes Mike so proud of him.

Mike just looks at Jeff for a couple of minutes after he stops touching him, and then he touches two fingertips to Jeff's cheek. "I'm going to take the blindfold off. Keep your eyes closed for a minute."

He unties the knot and slides the silk off of Jeff, the same way he always slides the ropes off, so Jeff can feel it. Jeff has his eyes closed, and Mike watches him scrunch them tighter against the light, then slowly, slowly open them.

Jeff is still totally gone, turning toward Mike without seeming to really see him.

Mike puts his hand on Jeff's forehead, strokes it through his hair. He keeps doing that, just touching Jeff some more, until Jeff comes back to himself a little and says, "Thank you."

Mike says, "You're such a good sub for me," and keeps Jeff tied up for a while longer.

*

They're on the road on the last day of their month, and Mike shares a shrug with Jeff that's all they can really do to mark the occasion.

They play Dallas the next day, and fly home that night. Jeff leans his head back in the car on the way home and asks, "We going to talk?"

"Not tonight," Mike says around a yawn. "I'm going to bed as soon as we get home. Tomorrow."

They go to bed when they get home, and Mike sleeps late in the morning and gets up to Jeff making lunch and coffee. They don't talk over lunch, and Mike gets up to help when Jeff starts cleaning up after they eat.

They sit down at the table after that, Mike with empty hands and Jeff with a bottle of water.

"That was a month," Mike says, because if he leaves it to Jeff to start this conversation, they'll probably be here all day.

"Yes." Jeff flashes him a grin. "A good month."

Mike grins right back at him. "Except for my fucking shoulder, a good month."

Jeff's hands tighten around his water bottle. "Does that mean we can keep going?"

Okay, so maybe he could have let Jeff start.

"Yes," Mike says firmly. Domming fills his need for control in a way other things don't, and doing it to Jeff is better than he could have thought. "I want to keep playing with you if you're sure you want this."

"Yes," Jeff says. "Please."

"You're getting much better at asking for what you want," Mike says. "We know it works," he waits for Jeff's nod, "so do you want to do another set period of time or leave it open-ended?"

Jeff's breath catches at that, and he puts his water bottle down. "Open-ended."

"We're going to have check-ins," Mike warns him, "like this, to sit down and make sure it's still working."

Jeff makes a face. "I hate talking about it."

"I know," Mike says, "but we should. I'm trying to be a good dom here."

"You are," Jeff says. "You're _really_ good."

"And I'm going to be responsible and make you talk about it," Mike says. "Check-ins. End of the season, once over the summer, beginning of the season, and every other month during the season. You don't complain about it, and we talk about things honestly. Deal?"

"Deal," Jeff says. He rubs the back of his neck.

It's a tell; Mike gestures at him to keep going.

"During the playoffs. I'm probably going to want you to hurt me."

Mike might not have guessed it, but it makes sense. Playoffs are tough, grueling. It makes sense that Jeff's going to want something more then, and he'll probably want to do something sharper then too. "Only between rounds."

"Obviously," Jeff says.

"Anything else?" Mike asks.

"No," Jeff says. "Anything else you want from me?"

"No," Mike says. "You're a really good sub now that you're not manipulating me into it."

Jeff manages to smile and look apologetic at the same time.

"And you did good when I hurt my shoulder."

Jeff snorts. "I know how to deal with you when you're cranky."

Mike can't argue with that. "Same rules as before," he says. "You do what I say when it's just us, I won't micromanage you, you always have permission to hook up, and you ask for what you want. Good?"

"Yes," Jeff says.

"Good. If you ever want to stop, you can say so, even if it's not a check-in." Mike waits for Jeff's nod of agreement, and then he says, in the same tone of voice. "On your knees."

It's barely a second before Jeff pushes his chair back and goes to his knees on the floor. Mike walks around the table and rests his hand on the top of Jeff's head, then bends down over him so he can wrap his hands around Jeff's wrists.

Jeff slumps out of his perfect posture, back coming to rest on Mike's legs.

Mike listens to him breathe, even and calm, trusting Mike with his body, with control. Mike only stays for a minute; he wants Jeff on his knees, but not on the hard floor.

He lets go and steps away, watching Jeff struggle not to fall toward him with the movement.

"Get up," Mike says. "You can come kneel in the living room." He turns away, trusting Jeff to do as he's told, and he hears Jeff's footsteps following him a second later.

*

They don't have a lot of time between the first round and the second, but it's enough for them to get one complete day off from practice. Mike and Jeff both sleep late, and they go out for brunch. When they get home, they take Arnold for a long walk on the beach.

Jeff's quiet, but more than quiet. He's tense, in a way that walking along the beach for an hour doesn't seem to do anything about.

Mike uses the walk to come up with half a dozen things he could do when they get home, depending on how Jeff acts and whether or not he asks for what he wants.

Mike, at least, is calm when they get home, Arnold tired out enough to make a mess drinking most of what's in his water bowl and then flop down on his dog bed. Mike stretches a little, watching him and readying himself for whatever Jeff is going to need.

Jeff goes to the kitchen and gets two bottles of water without being asked, and he takes the empty bottles to the recycling after they each drink one down, Mike on the couch and Jeff standing next to him.

Jeff comes back from the kitchen and sinks to his knees next to Mike, leans in and puts his forehead on Mike's knee. Mike runs his hand through Jeff's hair and down to his neck. If Jeff doesn't ask, Mike will, but he gives Jeff some time first.

Jeff takes a shuddering breath after a minute of Mike's hand resting on the back of his neck. "Will you hurt me?" he asks.

That's one of the things Mike thought about while they were walking, and he's ready to do that. "Yes," he says, scratching his blunt nails against Jeff's skin. "Any requests?"

"Tie my hands," Jeff says.

"That it?"

"Yes."

"Red and I stop," Mike says. He scratches the back of Jeff's neck, then gently pushes him away. "Get undressed. Everything. I'll be back in a minute."

He puts Arnold in the garage and goes upstairs for what he wants. He's had more than enough time to think about it, and to remember where everything he needs is. He isn't upstairs for more than two minutes, and he comes back downstairs to Jeff kneeling naked.

Jeff's head comes up a little as Mike comes toward him, and he sucks in a breath when Mike drops everything onto the coffee table. It's a satisfying reaction to get out of him.

"Hands behind you," Mike says, and Jeff does it without looking away from the table. From the hairbrush, unless Mike misses his guess.

Mike leans over him to put the cuffs on and clip them together. The angle would be easier on him if he sat down, but this isn't about what's easy for him; this is about what he is to Jeff.

Mike sits down once Jeff's hands are secure, and makes Jeff wait before he says, "Over my knees." He helps, so Jeff doesn't fall without his hands, but only so far as getting Jeff safely over his knees. Then he picks up the hairbrush.

He makes Jeff wait so long he starts fidgeting, and that's when Mike smacks him with the back of the hairbrush, right on the fleshiest part of his ass.

Jeff huffs out a breath and stills.

Mike hits him again, on the other side, and then he sets up a rhythm, evenly spaced blows light enough that he can keep going, layer on the pain until Jeff's gasping with every hit. Mike turns the brush over and scrapes the bristles over Jeff's ass and down to the untouched skin of his upper thigh.

Jeff swears, and Mike hits him again, harder now. Over and over again, distributing blows evenly, until there isn't anything in his world except the rhythm of the hairbrush and Jeff's reactions below him.

Jeff swears again.

Mike brings the brush down, hard, on Jeff's upper thighs, just below his ass, and Jeff yells. Mike does the other side, then back and forth while Jeff yells and protests and tugs at his bound hands. He can't go anywhere and he doesn't say "red." Mike hits him and hits him.

He stops, turns the brush over, and scrapes the bristles hard over Jeff's thighs.

Jeff goes silent for a breathless second, and then he gasps out a sob.

Mike scrapes the bristles up, over the curve of Jeff's ass, to his lower back, up one arm to his shoulder, down the other. He uncurls Jeff's hands and scrapes the bristles over Jeff's palms.

He listens to Jeff's sobs, heedless crying that means Mike's done his job and gotten Jeff out of whatever headspace he was in and into one where the only thing for him is what Mike's doing.

Mike lets up, running the bristles over Jeff's skin lightly, then turning the brush over and running the flat side of it over Jeff's heated skin. It's enough, Jeff as far gone as he's going to get, Mike completely calm and satisfied with getting him there. Mike leans over Jeff to drop the hairbrush on the coffee table and exchange it for the lotion he brought down from upstairs.

Jeff's crying tapers off while Mike rubs lotion into his skin. His breath is still heavy when Mike's done, but he's not sobbing anymore.

Mike taps his hip. "Up." He helps Jeff off his lap. "Knees."

Jeff settles all the way down, hissing when his ass comes to rest on his heels.

Mike grabs a couple of tissues from the box on the table. He uses one to wipe the tear tracks off of Jeff's face. He holds another to Jeff's nose. "Blow." After Jeff does, Mike says, "Stay there."

He knows Jeff's not going anywhere, but that's not the point.

Mike throws the tissues away in the kitchen and grabs a couple of cold packs and some water. The cold packs go on the coffee table while he holds a bottle of water for Jeff to drink from. He waits patiently between sips until Jeff drinks the whole thing.

"Stand."

Mike keeps his hand under Jeff's elbow as he struggles to his feet. He doesn't pull Jeff up, really, is just there so Jeff won't fall, which is a real concern with how wobbly he is. Mike's careful, when he has Jeff step into his underwear, to make sure Jeff's leaning on him. He doesn't want to hurt Jeff in any way he doesn't mean to.

Then he lets Jeff lie down on his stomach on the couch, head on Mike's thighs and hands still bound behind his back. Mike puts the cold packs over Jeff's ass and thighs. He doesn't turn on the TV, doesn't want the distraction for either of them, just lets them sit there in silence while he runs his hand through Jeff's hair over and over.

Jeff heaves in a breath after a while, and turns his head to look up at Mike, eyes shining with adoration.

Mike strokes his forehead, down to his cheek. "I've got you," he says, and Jeff sighs and puts his cheek down on Mike's thigh.

Mike unclips Jeff's wrists but leaves the cuffs on while he rubs Jeff's shoulders. Jeff stays limp and relaxed, and after a while, Mike takes off the cold packs and pulls a blanket down over him.

He turns on the TV sometime after Jeff falls asleep, and he still has it on low when Jeff wakes up. Jeff stretches and looks up at him.

"How's your ass?" Mike asks.

"Hurts," Jeff says. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. You going to be okay?"

"Mmhmm. Probably needs more ice."

Mike cups his hand over the back of Jeff's neck. "You stay there. I'll get it." He slides out from under Jeff and picks up the room-temperature cold packs from the coffee table.

Jeff grabs his wrist before he can go to the kitchen. " _Thank you_."

Mike carefully shifts his wrist out of Jeff's grip, pulls his hand up with the movement so he can squeeze Jeff's hand. "I've got you, Cartsy."

*

Neither of them is desperate to leave the city after their season is over. Losing in the playoffs is always a bitter disappointment, but in LA they can go to the beach or out to eat without being accosted by the combined disappointment of an entire city.

It gives them time, too, to decompress before they sit down and talk, which they don't do until after they've both bought plane tickets.

Mike keeps it simple to start with. "You still want this?"

"Yes," Jeff says promptly. "You?"

"Yes," Mike says. He puts a little bit of emphasis on it so Jeff will know just how much he means it. "That means we have to talk about summer. We're not going to be here," he waves at the house, "at all."

There's only a moment of hesitation before Jeff asks, "Can we just do the same thing in Kenora or Sea Isle? When it's just us?"

"It's not going to mess with your head to do it somewhere else?" It won't bother Mike, but their arrangement has been confined to the house so far, and that might carry weight for Jeff that it doesn't for him.

Jeff shakes his head. "No, and I don't want to go all summer without it."

"Fine with me," Mike says. He looks at Jeff for a second and then says, "You're getting good at asking for what you want."

Jeff shrugs, and looks away. "You give it to me when I do."

That's a huge thing Jeff just handed over, trust and acceptance all wrapped up together, and Mike lets them sit there with it for a couple of seconds. Then he says, "You always have permission to hook up. What about playing with other people?"

Jeff's eyes snap to his. "What?"

"You're going to be in Sea Isle for a while," Mike says. "I know you played with people in Philly."

Jeff stares at him. "What about you?"

"This one's up to you," Mike says. "I know some people near the lake, and if you want to play with other people, I might hit one of them up, but if you don't want to play with other people, I won't either."

Jeff just looks at him for a long time, and Mike lets him without looking away or interrupting his thought process.

"No," Jeff finally says.

"Okay," Mike says. "I might hook up with girls who will let me hold them down, but I won't play with anyone the way we work. Same deal for you. Hookups who will tell you what to do are fine, but not what we do."

Jeff stops looking so tense and nods.

"And if it doesn't work," Mike says, "we can change it. If it's not working for you, we'll talk about it even if it's not time for a check-in. That's an order," he adds, and gets a firmer nod from Jeff.

"Okay," Jeff says. "Thank you."

Mike reaches across the table to touch him, wrap his fingers around Jeff's wrist. "I like what we do," Mike says. "And I don't mind not sharing."

Jeff's lips quirk into a smile.

Mike grins at him and squeezes his wrist.

*

Mike settles easily into summer on the lake, fishing, hanging out with his brothers and his parents, playing softball. He texts Jeff a lot, and they talk at least once a week and Skype a couple of times so Jeff can say hi to Arnold. Mike's generally the one starting that, so he's a little surprised when Jeff texts him to ask if they can Skype.

For all that it's a little off, it starts out like usual, Mike getting Arnold to come look at the screen before he tries to lick the keyboard and Mike pushes him away, and Jeff smiling at both of them.

Jeff's smile doesn't last long, though.

"What's up, Cartsy?"

On the screen, Jeff tips his head back so he's looking at the ceiling instead of at the screen. He looks back before he asks, "Can I kneel for you?"

Mike hesitates. If they were in the same place, he'd say yes in a heartbeat. "I don't know," he says. "I'm not there to keep an eye on you."

"Please," Jeff says. "Even just for a couple of minutes."

"I want you to be safe."

"Please," Jeff says again.

"Okay," Mike says. He's worried about not being there, but also about not giving Jeff what he needs. "But just for a little while." He waits for Jeff to get comfortable and move his laptop to where they can still see each other. Mike's view is a little wider, so he can see Jeff kneeling on a cushion, and he's pretty sure Jeff's put him on the couch.

Even through the Skype connection Mike can see that Jeff's relaxing, but he still asks, "Better?"

"Yes."

Mike talks then, telling Jeff meaningless stories about his softball team and a roundup of family gossip. He keeps his voice calm, trying to make it a substitute for being right there where he can touch Jeff if he needs to.

It's been more than a few minutes when Mike stops talking.

"You good?" he asks after a couple of seconds of silence meant to make Jeff pay attention.

Jeff nods and when he looks into the camera, his face is dazed. "Yeah, thanks."

"Take a nap," Mike says, "and eat something, and call me later to let me know you're still okay."

"Yeah," Jeff says, "okay," and he still looks dazed when he disconnects.

Mike worries a little about whether or not that was a good idea, as satisfying as it was, but Jeff seems good when he calls later.

It also means Mike isn't surprised when Jeff shows up in Kenora unannounced. Mike has a deck full of people at the time, family, half his softball team, a couple of neighbors, a bunch of kids and dogs running around, and he doesn't notice Jeff at first.

It's Mark yelling, "Carts!" across the party that catches his attention, and then he looks up from the conversation he's having to see Jeff coming down from the house.

Most of Mike's family gets to Jeff before he does, and Jeff already has a beer by the time Mike hugs him.

"You didn't tell us Jeff was coming," Mom says.

"I didn't know." Mike throws an arm around Jeff's shoulders. "You should have called me. I would have picked you up at the airport. Or sent one of my brothers to get you."

Jeff shrugs. "Didn't want to bother you."

"You wouldn't have." Mike squeezes his shoulders and then lets go of him so Jeff can get something to eat.

It's a pretty big party, and people with kids leave pretty early, but everyone else stays until well after dark. It's late by the time it's just Mike, Jeff, and Arnold. Arnold flops down easily on his bed, tired out from all the excitement, and Mike and Jeff climb the stairs with only a little more energy.

They pause in the hallway upstairs. Mike knows why Jeff came, why he showed up unannounced, but they're both too tired and too drunk to do anything about it now.

Mike reaches out and takes Jeff's wrists in his hands. He waits to make sure Jeff's paying attention, and then he squeezes.

Jeff exhales all in a rush.

"I'd tie rope around them for the night," Mike says, "but I'm too drunk for it. I'll tie you up tomorrow if you want."

"Yes," Jeff says, "please."

Mike grins at him, unaccountably proud, and fond like he's always been where Jeff is concerned. He drops Jeff's wrists and pulls him into a hug instead.

*

Mike has Jeff kneel and ties him to the railing on the steps between the kitchen and the living room after they have a late breakfast. He sits across the room where he can keep an eye on Jeff and laugh when Arnold goes to investigate and whines when Jeff can't pet him.

Jeff says, "Sorry, bud," and Mike calls Arnold over to him.

"Sit," Mike says, and Arnold sits, and stays when Mike goes over to Jeff. "Okay?"

"I'm good," Jeff says. He tugs against the rope a little, and stops when Mike steps closer. Close enough for Jeff to lean his head against Mike. "Thank you."

Mike ruffles his hair and leaves him tied up for a while longer.

He leaves enough time between untying Jeff and lunch that Jeff's together enough for them to talk after lunch. It's different, sitting side by side at the counter in the kitchen instead of across a table, but Mike turns so he can see Jeff.

"I'm going to make you talk about it," he warns Jeff.

Jeff makes a face but nods.

Mike waits, because Jeff knows what he means, and he's willing to let Jeff take time to figure out how to say whatever he wants to say.

"I got used to it," Jeff says after a while. He shrugs one shoulder. "I didn't think it was going to be like this, but it felt weird not to have you telling me what to do."

"You can stay as long as you want," Mike says, "but we should probably figure out how to make this work for you. You could play with someone else."

Jeff shakes his head. "No."

"Cartsy," Mike says, "I'm not the only dom in the world." He likes being Jeff's dom, and he likes not sharing, but it might be the best thing for Jeff.

"No," Jeff says more firmly. "This works. I don't want to have to go through what it takes to get something like this again."

"I think you'd be better at it now," Mike says, "but okay. Long distance is harder. I don't want to do anything that's going to put you in danger."

"I know," Jeff says with a sigh. "Kneeling for you over Skype helped, but I missed having you actually there too."

Mike thinks for a couple of minutes, about what he can do when he's not there that will give Jeff what he wants without being dangerous.

"What if I told you to do things?" he asks slowly. "Like what to have for dinner or what kind of drink to order when you go out. You wouldn't need me to be there, and you'd still be obeying orders." Mike looks at Jeff. "And I'd still get to be in charge."

Jeff's quiet for a minute, which means he's thinking about it. "That could help."

"Okay," Mike says. "We'll try it when you go back to Jersey." He cups the back of Jeff's neck, thumb sweeping up and down Jeff's skin. "We'll figure it out."

Jeff quirks half a smile at him. "Does this count as our summer check-in?"

Mike laughs. "Nope. You just got yourself even more check-ins with this."

Jeff frowns at him, but his eyes are still bright, so he's just faking it.

*

Mike texts Jeff orders at least every other day after Jeff goes back to Sea Isle. Jeff acknowledges them as briefly as he acknowledges any other text, and Mike trusts him to do as he's told. Jeff doesn't say whether or not it's helping, so the problem of how to make it work over summers keeps hovering at the back of Mike's mind, even as he likes the hit of control he gets from telling Jeff what to do.

He goes to Sea Isle, of course, to spend some time hanging out with Jeff and the crew they used to hang out with when they lived in Philly. Jeff seems calm enough, less desperate than he was when he came to Kenora.

Mike orders him around, has him kneel for a while, and hand feeds him lunch when they have a long, lazy afternoon with no plans.

It's another afternoon with no plans when Mike tells Jeff to clean up after lunch and come back to the table.

Jeff does it and sits down with a resigned sigh. "Another check-in?"

"I told you there would be more." Mike looks at Jeff, content and easy in his skin. "Is it working?"

"Yes," Jeff says. "It's better when you're here, but yes. I'm not going to show up unannounced in the middle of another party on the lake."

"You can," Mike says, "but good." He looks at Jeff for a minute, taking in how relaxed Jeff looks, feeling what that does for him too. "Stay there." He gets up and goes to get his laptop, opens the page he bookmarked. "I have another idea." He sits down so he's not looming over Jeff. This is an offer, not an order, no matter how much he wants Jeff to take him up on it. "You can say no if you want." He turns the laptop around and pushes it toward Jeff.

Jeff says, "Oh," and his hand comes up to touch his neck. His eyes don't leave the screen.

Mike scrolled down before he turned the laptop to Jeff, so he knows which collar Jeff's looking at, black leather with a hefty looking buckle.

"You don't have to," Mike says, "but it could be a reminder for you. I'd tell you to wear it sometimes, but other than that it would be up to you when you wanted it." It could be for Mike too, to know that Jeff is always his to have like this.

"Yes," Jeff says. "Yes, Mike, _please_."

Mike goes around the table to sit next to Jeff, chair pulled close and at a little bit of an angle so his knee presses into Jeff's thigh. "You don't have to beg me for it, Cartsy." He squeezes the back of Jeff's neck. "If you like one of the other ones better, you can have a different design."

"No," Jeff says. "You picked this one."

Mike squeezes the back of Jeff's neck again. "This one then. On your knees." There's no point in doing anything else now; just looking at the collar has Jeff half under.

Jeff pushes his chair back and goes to his knees at Mike's feet. He leans his forehead against Mike's thigh and stays there while Mike buys him a collar.

*

Mike has Jeff's collar sent to him in Kenora. He's not going to be in Sea Isle long enough to wait for it there, and he's going to be the one to put it on Jeff the first time.

He thinks it should feel bigger than it does. It should because it's a responsibility, a commitment, a promise. It doesn't because it's Jeff and Jeff is probably the person he knows best in the world. Having Jeff trust him with everything Jeff trusts him with, and trusting Jeff in return, is the easiest thing in the world.

His plan is to give Jeff the collar the next time he comes up to Kenora, a planned trip this time, for the golf tournament.

Jeff arrives with a bunch of other friends, people who are coming up a couple of days early so they can all hang out, drink and fish and party before they have to behave themselves for a charitable cause.

Mike invites a bunch of people over, and they invite a bunch of people, and pretty soon there's a party spilling out of the house and over the deck. Cabbie has a mix going on the speakers and is unsuccessfully trying to get a couple of girls to dance with him.

Mike and Jeff are both laughing at him when a voice behind them says, "Hi, Mikey."

Mike turns and bends down to kiss Holly's cheek. He's known her for a couple of years, has both heard a lot of stories and learned from personal experience what to expect from her. He's had fun with her, but tonight he's not really looking for the kind of jockeying for power hooking up with her would mean.

"Have you met Jeff?" Mike pulls Holly forward a little, and watches Jeff lean in to say hi to her.

Holly gives Mike a smirk, like she knows what he's doing. Jeff most certainly does know what he's doing, and he doesn't so much as look away from Holly when Mike wanders away from them.

Some of the guys go to bed alone later, but not all of them. Mike doesn't, and he's pretty sure Jeff and Holly disappeared from the party at the same time.

For his part, Mike ends up with Renee, who he thinks is a friend of one of the guys he plays softball with. He's not entirely sure, and he doesn't care as much about how she ended up at the party as he does about what it's like to have her moving under him in his bed. She's gone when he wakes up in the morning, which is kind of a relief; he's a little too hungover to feel like fucking this morning, and now he doesn't have to figure out who she is and if they like each other enough to see each other again. They'll run into each other again somewhere or they won't.

Mike takes a shower and goes downstairs to find Jeff making breakfast, red fingernail scratches visible on his neck above the collar of his t-shirt, and Holly sitting at the counter watching him.

"Are you making enough to share?" Mike settles into one of the other stools at the counter.

"For you, sure," Jeff says, and he cracks a couple more eggs. "Not for everyone."

Holly laughs, and looks away from Jeff to grin at Mike. "If anyone deserves it, it's the two of us."

Mike grins back at her, because he was the one who set them up, and that obviously worked out well.

Jeff brings him a cup of coffee after he starts the eggs, and he serves both Mike and Holly before he gets a plate for himself and sits down between them.

Holly leaves after breakfast, but she tugs Mike down to kiss his cheek first. "Thanks, Mikey. Hell of a party." Then she goes to Jeff, and kisses him with more tongue than Mike really needs to see, her hand tight around the back of Jeff's neck and fingernails digging into his skin. "And thank you. I'd party with you any time."

Jeff grins at her, and watches her ass as she walks away.

"Good night?" Mike asks mildly once she's out the door.

"Really good," Jeff says. "You knew it would be."

Then Mike lets his smugness show, which just gets him Jeff shoving at his shoulder and leaving him with the dishes.

*

The actual tournament, after they've all had time to recover from their hangovers, is fun, even though they're all playing in foursomes with donors. Golf is golf, and Mike has enough experience with charity events that he knows how to do this. Plus, one of the guys in his foursome is someone he's met before, so he can also remember to ask about the guy's kids and let that take up some of their conversational time.

They party a little after, but everyone but Jeff is flying out the next day, so it's nothing too crazy.

"You need anything while we're in town?" Mike asks after they drop everyone off at the airport.

"No."

Mike sees, but ignores, the looks Jeff keeps shooting him. He drives them home without giving anything away, lets Arnold out to run around on the deck while he and Jeff drink bottles of water.

Mike whistles for Arnold after a while, and they go inside where Mike tells Jeff, "Go sit in the living room, on your knees next to the couch."

Jeff's exhale is loud in the silence of the house, and Mike grins at him.

"I didn't forget about you, Cartsy."

Jeff grins back at him and goes to do as he's told. Arnold also does as he's told when Mike sends him to go lie down on his bed.

Mike heads upstairs and gets the box out of his closet, hidden under a stack of t-shirts in a drawer so no one who was there for the tournament would get to it. It's a plain black box, but the way Jeff's eyes follow Mike's hands when he goes downstairs mean it's obvious to him what's in it.

Mike sits down next to where Jeff is kneeling. "You sure you want this?" He doesn't think Jeff will back out now - doesn't _want_ him to - but it seems worth checking, and Jeff's still with it enough to give him a clear-headed answer.

"Yes." Jeff looks up to meet Mike's eyes.

"Okay." Mike opens the box and takes out the collar, soft leather slipping through his fingers. It'll be easy for Jeff to wear; he can even sleep in it if he wants.

Putting it on Jeff for the first time also feels like it should be bigger than it is. Mike slips it around his neck, buckles it, makes sure it's not too tight. It's as easy as anything he's ever done with Jeff, easier than a lot of them. He lets his fingers linger at the edges of the collar, his visible mark on Jeff.

Then he looks at Jeff's face, and it is bigger than that. Jeff is staring back at him with the brightest look Mike's seen in his eyes since they won the Cup, and he's grinning from ear to ear.

"Good?"

"Yeah," Jeff says. He starts to laugh, giggles that bubble out of him like he doesn't mean to. "Really good." He bends his forehead to Mike's knee, still laughing.

It brings an answering joy filling Mike up, quieter, but just as certain. "Good, Cartsy, good." He rubs his hands through Jeff's hair. "It's not getting you out of check-ins."

Jeff's laugh takes on a more deliberate edge, and he grins up at Mike. "I know," he says, certain and calm behind his laughter. "You're doing what you need to do to take care of me."


End file.
